


Declarations

by crystalusagi



Series: Miscommunications [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Floor Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalusagi/pseuds/crystalusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape attempts to reason himself out of whatever it is he's gotten into with Harry Potter.  Potter has other ideas.  A sequel to a longer fic, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/502468">Asphodel Dreams</a>, but could possibly be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declarations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tofsla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofsla/gifts), [firescribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firescribble/gifts).



> Thank you to [tofsla](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tofsla) and [firescribble](http://archiveofourown.org/users/firescribble), whose enthusiasm and support made this sequel more than just a possibility. The plan is to write a series of short fics detailing the growth of Snape and Harry's relationship over time. This is the first installment of several.

It's been two days. 

He carries on as usual, brewing potions well into the evening, stopping only when he's run out of cauldrons and must begin to ladle things into bottles, label and store them. He makes dinner and eats it. He lies in bed and waits expectantly, running the conversation he had with Potter over in his mind, trying to find a loophole, a means of escape. 

The loopholes are all obvious. His mind avoids them almost automatically. He tries again. Comes up with nothing. He is trapped, after all. It is not so bad. 

Potter stays away and he wonders if maybe Potter has discovered for himself all the reasons this will not work. Maybe he has changed his mind. It would be a good thing; Snape will, inevitably, prove to be an unwise decision. 

Which is why, when Potter arrives at his doorstep on the third day, Snape does not let him in. 

***

He is a coward, he knows, hiding like a child behind the door and waiting for the knocking to stop. He would cast a Silencio on Potter now if he could. But that would require seeing him. Instead, he forces his mind to concentrate on the task at hand and very deliberately pulverizes the aconite with his pestle.

Eventually the knocking stops. 

***

Potter sends him another extraordinarily incomprehensible letter, which arrives by owl post the very next day amid a sudden flurry of orders. At the very bottom, after a series of paragraphs first explaining his absence (Weasley's covert auror undercover operation that required Harry Potter's cooperation) and then expressing the very depths of Potter's frustrations (many and varied): _I still want you_. 

Well, thank you ever so much, Potter. 

He spends the rest of the day listing all the things he dislikes about Potter in his head, over and over again. He's dismayed to discover how very few items he's managed in the end. 

Potter's letter goes into the fire.

***

When Potter calls again he opens the door. The boy's expression is one of surprise, as if he hadn't expected it to be this easy, hadn't expected Snape to answer at all. Maybe he shouldn't have. 

"Hi," says Harry Potter, all hopeful smile and dark hair falling over his eyes, looking disgustingly youthful and far too innocent for--twenty-two, wasn't it? He prefers the other Potter, half-naked, hung over and squinting, to this one. He steps aside to let him in anyway. 

Damned, surely. 

"Tea?" he asks, at a loss for anything else to say. Or so he thinks, until the rebellious stray thought slips out, much too fast for him to catch, and a sneer quickly follows: "Or are you here for a shag?" 

Potter isn't shocked, isn't even offended. He just grins and draws closer, right into Snape's personal space. "That sounds brilliant. Which can I have first?" 

Presumptuous. "You know where the kettle is." 

They sit and have the tea Potter's made. Potter holds the mug with both hands, closes his eyes as he sips. "I missed this." 

"Bad tea." He is not fishing at all. He's just realized that he’s forgotten to purchase new tea in the few weeks since Potter's last real visit; the brew in his cup is stale and off-color. 

Something suspiciously like a sigh escapes Potter. "No, not the tea--it's pretty bad though, isn't it?" His lips quirk into a smile again. "I meant you. I've missed--" He gestures in between them, "this." He laughs a little. "You being impossible about everything, basically." 

Snape considers taking offense. He wills the outrage to come, but it never does. Potter is only speaking the truth, after all. "I am impossible, and yet you miss me," he repeats, not looking very directly at Potter. "Not right in the head, are we?" 

"Absolutely mad." 

Potter says it quietly, the way anyone might utter a declaration of--

"Let's get on with this," Snape mutters, setting his cup down and closing the small distance between his chair and Potter's. 

Stale tea, his brain supplies as Potter kisses back. And then he resolves to stop thinking. There is a noise. Somewhere a chair has been knocked over; he doesn't know if it was his, or Potter's. There is a death-grip on his shirt, Potter's fingers clawing, pulling him closer; warmth coming from the palms of Potter's hands; the boy's tongue, insistent, at Snape's mouth. 

Potter is moaning, low and soft so that he thinks he may be imagining it. Potter's hard cock pressed against his thigh is real enough, at least. He presses back and Potter whimpers against his mouth. "So easily aroused," he says, ignoring the edge in his voice that hints at his own not insignificant arousal. But that can wait. "Do you need assistance, Mr. Potter?" 

A burst of heat against his neck as Potter groans. And then he tilts his head and looks into Snape's eyes. "Yes. Please. Fuck, Snape."

Perhaps it's his name uttered in that desperate, fragmented way that makes him abandon any pretense he'd hoped to maintain. Snape finds himself tearing at the fastenings on Potter's trousers, sinking to his knees and taking Potter's cock into his mouth. 

It has been an age since he's been in such a position, on his knees in front of another man, and for a moment the familiarity is almost uncomfortable. Potter's hands suddenly in his hair jolts him back to the present; it is Potter's pulse he feels thrumming against his tongue as he slides his mouth over the length of the cock. 

He can feel Potter trembling beneath his hands. Holding back. He lets his teeth catch along the sensitive skin as he eases off. The sound Potter makes is exhilarating, a choked sob that has nothing to do with pain. 

"I assure you, Potter," he murmurs, letting his lips brush the head, "there is no need for caution. I'm quite capable of taking all you can offer." Fuck my mouth, he doesn't say. Potter groans again anyway and tentatively rocks his hips forward. Snape opens his mouth. Takes him in. 

He remains on his knees, sucking Potter's cock, letting Potter drive slowly in and out of his mouth. Caught completely. He could remain all day like this, with Potter's fingers hanging onto his hair, Potter's uneven breathing filling the air around them. 

"Wait--stop!" Potter says it weakly, shudders as he pulls away, both hands on Snape's shoulders now. "Wait," he repeats, and one thumb slides down to rub Snape's collarbone, this touch somehow infinitely more intimate than the ones before. "I want to do it too." 

His flush is deepening, creeping up along his neck. He is trying his best to keep his need at bay, Snape knows, can see it in the focus of his eyes on Snape's lips. Snape licks them and has the satisfaction of watching Harry Potter close his eyes against the sight. "It?" he asks, and is proud that his own voice does not betray him. Much. "Why don't you tell me what 'it' is, Potter." Yes, tell me you would like to suck me. 

"You." Potter breathes. His hands twist a little in the fabric of Snape's shirt. "Shit. I want you in my mouth." 

He was expecting it, but Potter's words still make him have to clench something inside himself to stop from coming like a schoolboy again. He tries for light and controlled when he replies, but is positive he achieves neither. "Very well. Have me."

He is still on his knees on the floor, he realizes. He also realizes that moving may not be a possibility, that his legs may not hold him. So he remains. Potter lowers himself, cock bobbing in the air as he moves--he resists reaching out to touch, to stroke. Soon they are face to face. The boy reaches for his trousers and Snape lets him, almost flinches when the cold air hits his bare cock. 

Potter exhales; Snape imagines he can almost feel the heat from his breath, as far apart as they are. They are still both clothed, their positions mimicking one another, Potter's weeping cock sticking obscenely out of his trousers. 

Potter licks his lips, teeth catching the bottom of it, skin blanching for a moment before the color resurfaces. Perhaps he is nervous. Snape recalls their earlier conversation, _We did things I'd never done with a man before, _Potter had said about the random stranger he had kissed. Yes, one can safely assume he has never done _this_ before. __

__The boy--Merlin, but he is just a boy, Snape can _remember_ him in the schoolroom, and no, he cannot think of that now--leans forward, hands coming up to brace against Snape's legs, somehow trusting that Snape can support his weight and still manage to hold them both up. _ _

__The first timid touch of Potter's tongue on his cock is--overwhelming. He fears that his knees may buckle, that he is not strong enough to endure this after all. Potter continues to lick, as if he's working on a lollipop and is trying to wear down the layers, his pace maddeningly even. He wonders if it is the result of Potter being unsure, or if, perhaps, Harry Potter is attempting to test him._ _

__Then Potter at last opens his mouth and draws him in. He is tentative and daring, all at once, sucking and licking and tasting. Is that a moan? Yes. Yes, Potter is moaning around a mouthful of his cock, as if he's sampling some delicious morsel, as if this is the best damn thing he's had all day. And Snape, aroused beyond thought or control, thrusts hard into the tight warmth._ _

__A sound, half choke half groan, rumbles from Potter, but he does not pull away, does not stop sucking. _I want you in my mouth,_ Snape recalls as he reaches out and grabs Potter's hair, grip firmer than Potter's was on his own. His fingers tighten involuntarily when Potter makes a sobbing sound and reaches down with one hand for his own cock, stroking. _ _

__"Does it excite you?" he asks, unable to check himself. He slides back, shoves into Potter's mouth once more. "To be driven so far."_ _

__Potter is taking short breaths through his nose; he stops for a moment, closes his eyes, and then, imperceptibly, nods. Moans again as he moves his lips along Snape's cock. Asks for it._ _

__Snape places his hands very firmly on Potter's shoulders and gives it to him, pushing ruthlessly into the wet mouth and then out again, repeats the motion, finally abandoning himself to the act of possessing Potter fully, irrevocably. He will always have this moment, Harry Potter on his knees desperately touching himself as Snape fucks his mouth._ _

__He feels his climax approaching, considers for a brief instant letting himself spill in Potter's mouth, making Potter take this, too. He decides in a split-second against it, pulls back and away. The first pulse hits the bottom of Potter's chin._ _

__Potter, wide-eyed with surprise, cheeks flushed from his exertions, still fisting his cock in one hand. Potter, half-lidded, leaning in to lick wantonly at the drops that remain. Potter’s hair is as wild as his eyes as his back hits the floor, then eyes closed, panting, as Snape holds him down and proceeds to finish the job._ _

__He devours Potter's cock quickly, savagely. The need to have Potter's come in his mouth _now_ overwhelms him. He is rewarded, promptly, for his efforts. Potter's spunk is bitter-sweet as it goes down his throat. _ _

__It is a long while before either of them are able to speak. Naturally, it is Potter who utters the first word._ _

__"God, Snape, you are _brilliant_." _ _

__Lying on his back, clothes soiled, completely spent, Snape allows himself to smirk in amusement. "Let it be known, Potter, that experience in fellatio does not a brilliant man make."_ _

__"It kind of does."_ _

__"Philistine."_ _

__***_ _

__It becomes quite clear, eventually, that they cannot remain on their backs on Snape's kitchen floor. He removes himself, regretfully, and goes to fetch a washcloth to clean Potter up. He doesn't let his mind dwell on the fact that it could easily be done with a simple Scourgify. Potter sighs as the warm cloth presses against his genitals; Snape will allow himself this thing, as he has allowed himself so many things this day._ _

__It takes longer than he would like, but eventually they make their way back to the sitting room._ _

__"That was really good," Potter says as he enjoys a bite of stale biscuit. A shy smile, so at odds with everything that has just transpired. "But you know, I didn't plan it. I mean, I actually didn't come for a shag. Not that it wasn't absolutely amazing, but--"_ _

__"You need not seek to reassure me, Potter." Evidently he had enjoyed himself; Snape has had all the proof he needs, in the way... He forces his mind to stay away from all the ways in which Potter had emphasized his enjoyment._ _

__Potter frowns. Turns the half-eaten biscuit in his hand slowly, eyes following the movement of each crumb, it seems. "Well, maybe I'm the one who needs reassurance."_ _

__Bollocks. As if he wasn't already struggling with this process, Potter has to throw his insecurities into the mix as well. It will not do._ _

__"In our rather--extensive acquaintance, Potter," he says through gritted teeth, sure he is glaring at least a little, "have I ever encouraged the idea that I enjoy repeating myself?"_ _

__He can practically see the cogs turning._ _

__"Oh," says Potter, coloring, "right." He smiles. "So I guess we're all right, then?"_ _

__That may be going a bit far, he thinks. _All right _is such a vague quantifier, after all.___ _

____"Eat your biscuit."_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____\---the End_ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos much loved and appreciated~


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